


Something ends, something begins

by silveriris



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Mentions of Character Death, Oneshot, TW3 spoilers, i like minor characters that have little screentime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-12 00:26:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7076932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silveriris/pseuds/silveriris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the battle Keira is ready to leave Kaer Morhen. Her new companion is not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something ends, something begins

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The Witcher is not mine.  
> A/N: this fic contains spoilers for The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt.

 

It was a warm night, and the fire burning bright made Keira think of a village festival she once saw. People danced around the fire, drank and sang while she watched them from a distance. For them the flames symbolised life. Now she saw nothing but death among the flames. Vesemir's body burned, the scent of death almost suffocating.

Keira discreetly glanced around, looking at the faces of people gathered around the pyre. _What an odd bunch_ , she thought. _And I'm one of them_.

Standing by her side was Lambert. He survived the attack - thanks to her; she'd surely remind him that she was the one who saved his life. One day, when the grief and regret disappears, when he moves on. She didn't know much about him. Geralt mentioned him once or twice while talking about Kaer Morhen, but Keira didn't pay enough attention to his stories.

Although Keira didn't know Lambert well, she was good at reading people. And Lambert was someone she needed for her task; the younger witcher seemed strong, hiding his vulnerable side behind a facade he carefully constructed.

The flames crackled loudly, louder than Ciri's sobs. Yennefer embraced the girl who cried for all of them. It was a warm night yet Keira shivered. She should leave this dreadful place as soon as possible.

Her eyes moved from the burning corpse to the man standing by her side. His jaw was clenched, eyes narrowed, hands balled into fists. Stains of blood on his clothes glistened ominously, a reminder of what happened and how close he was to being another body burning in the flames tonight.

_You'll be fine_ , she wanted to tell him. If she was more like Triss (good, always helpful Triss) she would put a hand on his shoulder and talk to him in a gentle voice, saying foolish things like _death is not the end_ or _every loss makes you stronger_. She was good at telling lies but saying such nonsense was something she could never do.

Keira was nothing like Triss, so after the battle instead of talking she bandaged Lambert's wounds, yelled at him to stop complaining, then ordered him to make himself presentable. He didn't listen to her at all since he didn't even change his clothes. Something told her that if Geralt was the handsome hero, then Lambert was the type of an angry, irritating sidekick.

After the funeral she quickly returned to her room. She had very little with her, only two bags, some herbs she gathered, potions she found and took when no one was paying attention. They wouldn't need those potions anyway, and she might actually use them for something, so technically it wasn't stealing. All her belongings were already packed, and Keira Metz was ready to leave Kaer Morhen right after Vesemir’s funeral. The problem was that she could not leave alone, and the one person who was supposed to accompany her was in no shape to travel.

She walked down the hallway to Lambert's room. She didn't really know him, but she already learned he was stubborn. She reminded him to check his bandages and see if the wounds are healing, though now she decided she should do it herself just to make sure Lambert got ready to leave as well.

Hopefully he wasn't getting drunk on whatever they had left in this place. The other day Yennefer mentioned the witchers had a party one night, and it ended with them using her megascope while completely drunk. Keria suspected Lambert wasn't in the mood for more childish pranks, but she was slightly concerned about him. After all, he had just lost Vesemir.

She was merely a guest here, an intruder, yet she had no intention of knocking when entering his room. She half expected to see trophies on the walls, monsters stuffed to decorate the place. Common people always had the strangest ideas how a sorceress' chamber should look like. Keira, on the other hand, had similar thoughts about a witcher's room. Reality, however, was rather disappointing because Lambert's room was not only uninteresting, but also messy.

His equipment, swords and armour, as well as traps and other weapons a witcher needs, was neatly organized, while everything else absolutely wasn't, creating a state of complete chaos. Lambert was sitting on his bed, changing bandages on his wounds (at least he remembered what she told him).

Looking at the mess around him, Keira frowned. “I see you're getting ready. We're leaving in the morning. Don't forget to pack warm breeches,” she pointed at a pile of clothes at the floor.

Lambert snorted. “How about you ask Geralt instead? From what I've heard you two had a moment. Or two. You see, he wasn't very specific about it but knowing him I imagine you both had lots of fun together.”

Keira huffed. If he wanted a confrontation, then she sure as hell wasn't going to run away. She had enough of babysitting witchers. Suddenly it as perfectly understandable why Yennefer always seemed so irritated, it was a miracle that after all these years she could still tolerate the witchers and their endless whining and moping.

“I asked you to help me and you _agreed_ ,” she said, taking a step closer to him.

“I can always change my mind,” he spat angrily, standing up. He glared at her like a wild animal ready to bite. She didn’t know much about him, and it seemed that Lambert was nothing but anger, fury flowing through his veins.

Keira Metz was afraid of rats but a man could not intimidate her so easily. She folded her arms on her chest. Thanks to her Lambert wasn't dead. He was full of regret and anger yet he _lived_ , though it seemed he was too focused on remembering the dead.

“Good thing that I didn't change my mind and decided to save your life,” she said, her voice strong, brows furrowed. “I'll say it once, and don't make me repeat myself. Vesemir was someone important, and I feel sorry for all of you. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, you of all people should know that. You know what they say, something ends, something begins. Even though you seem like a complete ass, I'm glad you're alive. I'm glad that I came here and I helped when I could.”

Lambert opened his lips to say something but Keira raised a hand and gave him a look that could silence a manticore. He was but a witcher, so he stared at her in silence. 

“I didn't save you so you could waste your life sitting here moping. Do whatever the hell you want after you're done helping me. And we're not done until I say so.” She stabbed his chest with her index finger. There was a hint of panic in his eyes. Keira ignored it and continued. “I'm ready to leave, but I'll wait for you so you can finally get your shit together. Stop thinking about the dead, and focus on the living.”  

His yellow cat–like eyes met with hers. She saw... a question, perhaps, regret and rage all mixed together. Despite what some people thought, Keira Metz was kind, although she only showed kindness to those who deserved it. After a second of hesitation, her hand caressed Lambert's face, touching the scars with her fingertips, feeling the roughness of his skin. He flinched, clearly surprised by her tender gesture, but didn't push her away.

He smelled of blood, leather and sweat, and something else she could not yet name. Death was all around this place but his scent was different.

“Get some sleep. We're leaving this place first thing in the morning.”

She turned around and walked to the door, back straight, head high. She could feel his eyes following her. Perhaps he wondered if he should say something. Thankfully, Lambert watched her silently, his anger tamed. He should deal with his problems first; now he could only say something he would later regret. Closing the door behind her, Keira smiled.

They left Kaer Morhen in the early morning. Keira couldn't quite forget the smell of death that seemed to linger on her clothes and skin, no matter how hard she tried to wash it off. There were moments when again she saw the burning body of the older witcher devoured by flames. In a moment of weakness, overpowered by her irrational fears, Keira had to look at Lambert to remind herself that even amidst all this death she could still save someone. She needed to continue her research.

Weeks later, in the middle of one of their arguments that happened on a daily basis because they just couldn't agree on anything, Keira nearly told him to go back to Kaer Morhen. Surprisingly, she couldn't.

There was something in her eyes telling her how much he needed her. Lambert tried to hide it behind anger and mockery, but small gestures betrayed him. He had a _purpose_ , even if it meant following a sorceress around, gathering herbs and killing monsters for her.

She could find a cure for the plague. When Keira doubted, hands covered in blood, when she wanted to scream from frustration, her eyes searched for Lambert.

“Get some rest, Metz,” he said with his signature frown. “Who’s going to pay me for all my hard work if you die of exhaustion? Go to bed.”

Lambert always sounded irritated. This time, however, she could hear a hint of concern in his voice. Or maybe she just imagined that (but something told her she didn’t).

Although her hands trembled when she casted the spell that fateful day, she saved him. And somehow his mere presence at her side was enough to make her believe there was still hope.

Wiping sweat from her face, Keira smiled. There was still much to do to find a cure. But one day historians would write about a sorceress who defeated the Catriona plague. She would make sure.

Hopefully they would also mention the witcher who stood by her side.


End file.
